In the city of Neverwinter, a dwarf named Gundren Rockseeker asked you to bring a wagon load of provisions to the rough-and-tumble settlement of Phandalin, a couple of days' travel southeast of the city. Gundren was clearly excited and more than a little secretive about his reasons for the trip, saying only that he and his brothers had found "something big," and that he'd pay you ten gold pieces each for escorting his supplies safely to Barthen's Provisions, a trading post in Phandalin. He then set out ahead of you on horse, along with a warrior escort named Sildar Hallwinter, claiming he needed to arrive early to "take care of business." You've spent the last few days following the High Road south from Neverwinter, and you've just recently veered east along the Triboar Trail. You've encountered no trouble so far, but this territory can be dangerous. Bandits and outlaws have been known to lurk along the trail.

[[G.M Note: Please take this first post to Introduce your characters to each other and explain how it is that you came to know Gundren Rockseeker. (e.g Child hood friends, or someone that has helped you get out of a tough scrape a time or two) and please put in [[ ]] at the base of your post which position you would like to have in your marching order. Thank you]]

Two days ago, a dwarf had marched into Ilisandoral's small bookstore and requested an expert in languages and lore. Why they didn't go to Candlekeep for a more active researcher and the fact that he'd have to close his shop made Ilisandoral very unreceptive and he'd almost chased them out, with a copy of Emarshin's Primer for Shaping the Weave thrown at their head for good measure.

Cas, however, had grown more than a little bored being forced to sit and keep the store open. Ilisandoral might hate travel, but Cas found nothing more interesting than new people and new places. Of course, they hired him, grudgingly, but he'd refused to leave his dark carriage all journey. So it was Ardiane who sat on a horse, sidesaddle and cross-legged, playing a jaunty, simple traveler's tune on her flute as the wind blew her long, blonde hair back from her face.

[[3]]

Bar, being his usual self, walked into town and went to the nearest butcher. Requesting the raw meat he likes, he paid with the gold he earned in the last. He felt the urge to beat something that lived. After finding his way to the local military camp, he requested to be testing the armors of the new recruits. Amused that a halforc would train with their soldiers, the guards recieved a proper beating. Under the guise of armor testing, Bar amused himself in raging and drowning in the adrinaline.

A dwarf by the name of Gundren Rockseeker came to speak to the fighter. Not knowing he was there to talk, Bar charged in and hit him.. The man was stunned for a second, but after a brief apology and a few hours of talking, he hired Bar. He made Bar a stone card to hang arround his neck. Every time he came across him, he could look at the card and rememer not to punch his employer.
After a few years, he asked Bar (for a price 100x his usual fee) to join on an escort. Not knowing what prostitutes had to do with this, he accepted. Everyone's armor was properly tested first, of course. But he recieved a necklace card for every person on the caravan.

[[1]]

---

The journey from Halruaa had been long and hard, but Kiki had finally arrived in Neverwinter, physically unscathed but mentally exhausted. Her first night in the city had resulted in her being ejected from several inns as she barely had the coin to pay, and so she found herself nestled under a grove of trees next to the river that bisected the city.

The morning brought her to investigate the various factions and postings in the city. Surely someone would have work for an individual with her skills, and eventually, she was beset upon by a dwarf needing an escort for his wagon. Far be it from Kiki to turn away free money. The ten gold she expected to earn would last her long enough to get a more stable job under her, and to that end, she located the Lord's Alliance faction. Although Kiki was not particularly knowledgeable about the local history, nor was she exactly the most lawful individual, she found this faction seemed more than willing to listen to her tales about Halruaa, even offering room and board for the evening. An interesting chat with the chef ensued, and she expressed her intent to join the dwarf on his journey the following day. Kiki was rather surprised to learn that the man she spoke to was also planning to join this journey. At least she would have an ally on her first job.

The meeting with the rest of the party was not the smoothest meet up she had ever participated in. When the barbarian attempted to "test" her armor, she responded by keeping his neck a rapier's length away from her. She was not in the habit of taking pointless beatings from her supposed allies, and certainly would not abide him trying to attack those weaker than him without provocation. She hoped he didn't take it personally.

Kiki spent the first few days getting to know the crew she started with. Ardiane, the bard, seemed to be quite intriguing, but there was something hidden under that shy smile of hers. Kiki joined in for a short time with her lute, and although Ardiane was much more talented than Kiki, it was quite the enjoyable experience. Bar, the barbarian with a less than inspired name, wasn't too bad once Kiki got to know him, but she still had a tough time trusting anyone who thought bashing others was a proper greeting ritual. Perhaps this land was even more different than she expected. Seethe, the wizard, was a great conversationalist, and she found herself lost in stories around him, either of her own weaving or his. Elki, the cleric, greatly interested Kiki, and she hoped to learn more about the deities she worshiped before the journey was out. She had always thought of most religions as being stifling and restrictive, but this cleric seemed to have an easier time having fun than even Kiki did. And of course, the final member of their crew was a silent man. It was hard to trust someone who refused to give his name, and indeed, spoke so little that Kiki was unsure even what his talents were. There was something different about him that Kiki couldn't put a finger on, and she wondered to herself whether this man might be part of the cargo they were escorting.

All in all, the majority of the party intrigued her enough, and the promised pay was worth the company of those she mistrusted. Perhaps she would change her mind if she saw them in a true fight, but for now, she plodded along happily with the rest. Maybe she had finally found a place she belonged.

[[4]]

The previous day:

And the rest was history. Elki sat atop the back of the wagon, keeping an eye out for trouble. These roads were infamous for being bad news, after all. She'd met her fellow wagon guards during their quick briefing - initially through the haze of a slight hangover - and had made a mental note to get to know the rogueish one, being that Elki had a soft spot for that line of work. As for the half-orc, he looked fun to tease, if not providing a good chance to brush up and practice on her orcish, lest she start forgetting it. The bard she'd barely got a chance to talk to before he'd squirreled himself away, though his travelling compatriot was easy on the eyes and knew a few good tunes, which Elki presently enjoyed from her lazy perch.

As for the wizard - well, Elki was far from capable of understanding such intellectual or arcane pursuits, and she didn't particularly care for the fancy way he carried himself. But, his hair looked pretty and soft, so Elki had resolved to touch it when he wasn't paying attention to find out for herself if her theory was true and also for her own personal amusement. The aim of the game would be to not get caught, of course.

And then there was the quiet one. Elki propped herself up by her hands and leaned back, blankly and quite obviously turning around to stare at him driving the wagon. Man. She always wanted to mess with the quiet ones, but often thought better of it, if only because they freaked her out so much. She couldn't help believing that anyone who didn't regularly open their trap were hiding something or plotting everyone's demise, and Elki hated not knowing. They were the type of people who screw up her perfectly good escape strategies (utterly unforgivable), the type of people who were often wild cards, and sometimes the type of dangerous people you don't want to get on the bad side of.

And this one? This one definitely gave her the heebie jeebies.

She shuddered.

[Placement: 6]
[Perception Check: 6]

---

Neverwinter the city that was. Beset from all sides yet still it prevailed. Neither volcano, nor sea, nor forces dark could crumble her majesty. And from the rubble of her walls, the sealing of her wounded chasm, once more the city rose. Not as glorious as before, for the still new was her spark, but still she survived. And the greed of men came down upon her, like suitors to a bride, before the first seeds had spouted. Those who were born to her womb, who have struggled to scratch out a living through and through as if trapped by her maternal grasp, they were pushed out. Those who kept their silence in the cycle were viciously thrown into the pit, as looters came to prosper, new inhabitants clawing into the old city, finding ruins and old villas to haunt. New blood trickled in as the walls fell down, and opportunity lay for those aggressive enough to carve out a piece of Neverwinter's ruins. These distressed streets paved piece by piece over the years, and Lord Protector Neverember hand came down upon Neverwinter years ago to stabilize the resurfacing factions. Renewed the spirit, invigorated by the desires of outsiders to control and divide, uniting the once splendorous city under their own banner, every district flooded with new arrivals as travelers from near and far come. It was the dawn of a new day over Neverwinter.

Yet it was not the city he remembered. The city was a harsh father, teaching him what lessons in life he took with him. A cruel master tormenting you hunger though the markets were alive with all manners of food. Long ago, a dry throat thirsted over the taverns lit with carousal and flowing ales, and a weary head rested dreaming of the warm beds of the inn below him. Born nearly two and a half decades ago, M never knew who it was that left him there to be raised by the streets, taken in not by the orphanage that found him there, but rather by the city of Neverwinter itself. Who would adopt a child without a voice? Did they think he was slow? Addled and unable to speak his mind? His caretakers never bothered, keeping the boy alive, but thin and meager, and yet still he took after his rightful parents and survived. They at the orphanage gave him a name, one he no longer uses after leaving that place of sadness. For in the streets of Neverwinter he adopted a new moniker, a name to call his own, for it was he who bestowed it upon himself. Rechristened and reborn, the boy swore he would one day make a home for all the forgotten children.

How long ago was that? Toil and sweat grunted, blood and tears shed. An old building partially restored with what scrap lay in the Chasm's rundown district. A humble place reclaimed from an broken down inn, looted dry of goods by the structure still standing. A roof partially caved in, leaking in the rain, a creaking wood and rickety stairways, and a sewage system long in need of a washing. Through the years by his work the inn became a safe haven for other children left behind. A place quietly run by what they'd consider an older brother, a kind stranger who treated them like family. The coins earned from every odd job that rolled his way, going towards keeping the children fed and sheltered. In a way the makeshift orphanage was his kingdom, and he was the Prince in rags, a working class citizen with a noble heart. What gracious charity was accepted by those few who knew of his work, certainly with two dozen kids running around parentless he alone could not be there all the time. So at times the widowed women came, or the eldest of the children, to keep an eye on the ever-changing lot. They came and went freely, it was there so they could have a place to call home, even if they had wandered well and lost.

There were rules however, and the finances were managed by himself, shrewdly negotiating the prices of daily meals and goods. Work was difficult, and coins were precious, each to be spent prudently in the marketplace. Not the finest nor the freshest of produce and breads, nor the best quality cuts of meats or fish, but there was always something at the table. Where they could all join together as one large family, each taking a bit under the eye of big brother. A simple life, a small pleasure afforded by the wages earned, and a bit of subliminal manipulations. Being a psion had its perks, as he had discovered at an early age. The vast knowledge of the Noosphere waiting to be plucked by his mind, raided for its contents until eventually a new topic was sought to be learned and the memory of the old ones faded away. It was after all how the boy learned all his skills, reading, writing, mathematics, everything was available in the mystery of the Noosphere as the collective body of thought. And this was merely the beginning of what his mind could do.

So looking back, Neverwinter was still visible on the northern horizon smaller but still ever present. A few days away would be fine, there was enough food to last, a few coins left with the eldest Laura and Jules. They were good kids, wouldn't spend so lavishly as the others, knew how to be safe and keep the money tight. In the care of those so dependent on the shelter, it would be respected, unlike those who sought to use its innocence for all sorts of illicit activities. Yes, thieves and other scum had sometimes found it a tempting target, and those honorless bastards found themselves at odds with the building's protector. A solo scoundrel would be easily dispatched, their brains impaled and pierced by psychic ravaging, until their bodies were left brain dead. But a gang or group would be more difficult, especially when they threatened the safety of the kids. To which it was easier to come to an agreement of providing a stipend of money monthly, and some services in exchange for 'protection.' Yet every month they squeezed harder, asking for a bit more each time they came back. The factions wouldn't lend a hand, keeping order elsewhere in Neverwinter, and the rest were vying to rebuild and glean a position of higher power. All the politicks making it difficult to voice anything in the will of the mighty.

Fortunately there was favour with a dwarf named Gundren Rockseeker. Who occasionally provided small jobs and contacts for work throughout the city. A man of talent could always find something to use his mind for, even with the strange mutism he had. Whether it was a simple go fetch this from this person from one of the self-style nobles, which a former street urchin could do with ease, slipping in and out of the bustling city and reappearing later like magic, or assisting scholars in finding information scattered throughout Neverwinter. The psion swallowed his pride and served effectively, though never quite telling anyone his name. Rather, he was referred to as either 'Errand Boy' or 'that quiet one' or whatever name his direct employer decided to call him. This time Gundren had hired him for a mere 10 gold pieces to escort a supply wagon to Phandalin. Phandalin of all places, a grungy little settlement wasn't it? What was there to behold? The dwarf wouldn't say, and certainly the mute didn't ask. Work was work, certainly the dwarf had amassed a strange group.

First was the bard, ever cheery atop a horse, a half-elf girl with locks of golden hair in the wind as her coy smile made the psion doubt her nature. Perhaps it was because he too wore a mask and concealed a hidden talent that the mute man found this girl's mannerisms to be unsettling. For behind her tugged in two another carriage, for some scholar they had hired, one who had yet to be seen thus far. Yet like the stranger, he too was not ready to reveal his own talents and invade the minds of his fellow travellers, especially not that of the Barbarian half-orc. Yes, it was almost a redundancy to say barbican half-orc, and this one as much of his ilk and kin were short on brains. All muscle without thought, a stupid creature that spoke too loudly for its own intellect, telepathy would most likely frighten the simple minded, the voice of gods or demons, or whatever other power they believe it to be talking to them. At least he managed to keep out of the creature's strange ritual of 'testing armor' as their hire called it. Three members to be wary of, as it was.

And then there was lutist, who often accompanied the flutist, another female and a traveler from afar by the looks and sounds of it. He had kept his distance from most, his silence being the bastion that gave him reason to remain aloof, yet she was some sort of warrior by the weapons she carried and armor she wore, though one who prefer finesse over brute strength he concluded by her sleek form and supple armor. Yes, being the one to listen and observe, to think rather than speak, there was the benefit in being a thus far the group's watcher. It was he who drove the supply wagon, sitting with the reins in hand as the oxen plod forward along. A team of horses would have been faster, yet the equipment carried behind him seemed quite the stash. How much was it worth to the dwarf to get it all to Phandalin? A mining operation by the sounds of it, the secrecy and the man involved. Dwarf and his brothers, even taking a guard to go scout ahead? 10 golds was 10 golds, and a man's good faith and trust had been bought for less. Still, the mystery of Phandalin piqued the interest, and what motivations the others had for accepting the job. The traveler he could understand needing the work, and the barbarian perhaps some hired muscle, the bard entertainment for them both.

Then the final two where the academics, a fiery nobleman and a young girl. The former was a member of the Alliance no doubt, the airs and way he carried himself, buried in books or recounting a tale. Perhaps that was why he was here, official business sanctioned by the Lords. He was a genasi of fire as suggested by those crackling curtains, the redness of his iris burning with the look of superiority brightly glowing. The latter was a young girl, not one far younger than Laura by her looks, still wide-eyed and wondering about the world. A holy symbol marked her office, a worshiper, someone who prayed for a miracle to come and thanked the gods for their deliverance. Prayer only did so much, thrown at the mercy of the uncaring gods, the chaos of their dice and the cruel justice of their self-righteousness. And as for magic, magic was either a gift at an accidental birth, borrowed from a moment, or learned to be forgotten. Only the strength of the mind and one's own will persisted. Was he not living proof of that?

Enough looking back. Reminiscence was to be put behind him. For a few days this rag-tag group would be his acquaintances. Three women, and three men, one unknown, each of differing personas certainly, for a balanced grouped it would seem, and each had their role, two mercenaries, two morale keepers, a scholar, a captain and a servant. Strange that the barbarian refused to wear clothing in front of such young ladies, but perhaps decency for one as dimwitted as the half-orc was out the window, despite how much the Lordsmen could protest for. The psion himself wore simple clothes, his thin and lanky frame beneath a shabby white tunic and brown patched linen trousers, his boots clearly his only pair as thin as the soles ran worn down as he walked. A weather-beaten traveler's cloak across his shoulder, serving as a blanket for chilly nights sleeping atop the wagon, he could sleep anywhere by now despite carrying a bedroll. The silent one amongst the group preferred to keep a close count on the supplies promised to be delivered, in case something was missing from the cargo and their pay suspect to thievery, and of course someone had to notice any bandits approaching from the rear and snap the reins to rush the oxen forward. Though their journey so far had been quiet, danger always lurked on these roads thus vigilance was key. They were party united by the threads of their simple task, to guard this supply wagon safely through to the city ahead. What compensation was there should anything happen between Neverwinter and their destination? Was it really worth to risk your life 10 golds? Or would it be more fitting to risk a total stranger's? But the new names of his troupe was learned and placed into memory, written somewhere into the Noosphere. Ardiane, Bar, Kiki, Seethe, and Elki...

And he would remain a stranger to them,
Though they may call him many things,
His name was truly and only his own.

[[5]]

Seethe finished tying and brushing his long, vibrantly orange hair. It tends to get rather wild when he traveled across long distances due to his own sweat, much to his dismay. The young wizard was unsure why the Lord's Alliance had sent him doing errands for a dwarf. He sees such simple work as a waste of his talents. He was sent to watch over the Halruaan, and observe her skills on the field... not that they even faced any real dangers yet. As far as character goes, she's a pretty open book, and was rather easy to converse with. Halruaa seemed like an interesting place, and an ideal destination in the future. She even liked his cooking, or at least, that was what he was lead to believe. Still, all this pointless escorting is starting to get on Seethe's nerves. He has yet to voice his distaste to the party, however, and has kept his graceful bearing throughout their venture.

Seethe was displeased that he had to be the one to lead everyone forward. Well, almost. He agreed that axe-swinging mongrel, as he himself would describe, should helm the front. If they were ambushed, then the mongrel will charge in and take the hits for him, anyway. That oaf thought a punch would be a great way to greet your allies! Of course, what else do you expect from these common apes? Seethe thought to himself as he had another glance at the barbarian, staying a proper distance away from his naked, possibly sweaty form.

The rest of Seethe's party was a rather mixed lot. First, there was the bard. Normally, bards are rather annoying to him, and for good reason; they reminded him too much of the Harpers. A real pest of a group, he thought. They demanded equal rights to all people... ridiculous. How could they not understand that the common people need to be lead by the noble and intelligent? The high should stay high, and the low should be kept low, Seethe had come to believe. At least this bard is quiet, and rather bashful, as well, when compared.

Then there was the priest. In the Genasi's mind, religion was only a way to control the masses. He saw the gods as extraplanar debt-keepers who give their followers power in exchange for worship. Despite such, it's not like the wizard could deny the powers of such mythical beings. Many of the incantations of his spells pay homage to Azuth, and even Seethe found himself sometimes in (very brief) moments of prayer to the Sun God, Amaunator. Sure, religion is a good tactic to keep the masses in check, but there are a few who do quite the opposite, and to his knowledge the girl worshipped a very tricky sort of god. It didn't help that every time he was around her, his perfectly combed hair would have a strand sticking out...

Finally, there was the one that looked the most like a commoner. A thin man who seemed to have kept mostly to himself. In fact, it doesn't seem like he knew how to talk, either. Has the intelligence of the common people declined so low that they aren't even able to speak? Well, at least ue was able to listen, it seemed. Still, though, something seemed off about this quiet man, and Seethe just quite couldn't put his finger on it. It's as if every (very, very) few times they have interacted with eachother, he suffered a light dizzying spell... The wizard figured he'd have to keep wary of whoever, or whatever this commoner is, and what sort of power he was hiding.

"If we are to get attacked by the bandits that roam here," Seethe ran on for the millionth time, "Remember not to get too close to them until after I can set up my spells and break their lines. Unless you find it advantageous to fight while you're down, then by all means, go ahead and rush in like a raving mad barbarian. No offense, Bar." Seethe had said. And yes, he has asked for his allies to accommodate to this strategy almost every day, in fear (or hope) of bandits actually attacking them. He joined the alliance to bring down the roving vagabonds and the deadly denizens of the natural and magical world who threaten civilization, anyway, not escort a caravan for some dwarf.

You've been on the Triboar Trail for about half a day. As you come around the bend, you spot two dead horses sprawled about fifty feet ahead of you blocking the path. Each has several black-feathered arrows sticking out of it. The woods press close to the trail here, with a steep embankment and dense thickets on either side.

[[GM Note: What would you like to do in this situation. To answer a question, the stuff you are transporting has a total value of 100gp. Also please include at the base of your post your co-ordinates, thank you also please include any check rolls that you would like to use]]

Map

---

Kiki's lute twanged a sour note as she noticed the dead horses that blocked their path. Silently, she put away the instrument and in their place produced her weapons. Kiki motioned to the cleric, then pointed to the woods to the south of them. She then slipped away from the group, hoping that her movement would go unnoticed by whomever slew the equestrians ahead.

She moved with practiced subtlety, blending into the greenery. Something attacked these horses, and the possibility that the enemy lurked nearby was high. A bottleneck around a curve with such advantageous landscape on either side? Kiki only hoped that these unknown foes were not directly looking for them, or else they might be ready for the group of sellswords that accompanied the wagons. Her favorite type of foe was an unaware foe, for then she could get the drop on them.

---

Half a day into today's travels, behind them the High Road running south from Neverwinter, upon the Triboard Trail that would lead to Phandalin. It was a small miracle that they had made it this far without so much of a gnat to bother their travels. No bandits had accosted them, only the flies that pestered their oxen under the day's sun, and the moths that were mystified by the fires of their camp by night. Uneventful, and uneventful was good, the faster they arrived to Phandalin, the faster he could get paid and return to Neverwinter. Unless of course the journey was meant to be a one-way trip, of which he would have the dwarf's brains splattered inside his skull for such treachery. The kids would have enough for two weeks only, scratched and scrounged out from what savings the psion had, a few glittering gold pieces and of course just enough for himself to purchase a horse to travel back and resell at Neverwinter. Hopefully though the dwarf could loan him a vehicle to get back without charge. Either way there was no intention on staying around in Phandalin, not with his responsibilities and Neverwinter despite all the hardship it had given him, was his home. These others amongst him may have their own purposes, the wizard always annoyingly reminding everyone of both his affiliation with the Lords, and spellcasting tactics. A daily spiel for the sake of the half-orc perhaps, as for the umpteenth time Seethe reminded the party. At least the flute and accompanying lute were less grating. That is until the lutist ended on a short note.

The Triboar Trail ran itself into the woodland a few feet further in. And there in the path, where the greenery and foliage began to overgrow the dirt-trodden plod, was a morbid sight. Amongst the verdant glen two creatures lay, slain by arrows embedded into the their lifeless bodies. What horror was it that claimed the lives of the horses basking under the high noon sun? Their glassy eyes burned out from staring perpetually into the light of unrelenting day even as the leaves filtered out some of the morning beams. Did they die in shock and panic? Suddenly finding themselves riddled with sticks and metal? Neighing and screaming as they fell upon the trampled earth? Did their riders turn back or attempt to as the first arrow met its mark? Yes riders for one was saddled, still geared, and certainly no wild horse would use a road and travel in pairs. What happened here?

They did not a natural death clearly, for what beast uses arrows to kill a steed? No beast made these marks, but what ones made those arrows? Something clever, clever enough to use tools. Bandits perhaps? Looking at the lay of the terrain, it would be likely this was a trap. Holding the reins the silent Psion pulled the oxen back, signaling the beasts to hold their advance just before the edge of the small forest. A hand held up to the rest of the group if they were watching, a cautious stop. Something was amiss. The day was warm, and there was no stench of rot yet in the air. These horses were untouched by anything save the arrows, and how their bodies blocked the path to proceed. Around them ample coverage from nature's blessings, a perfect set up for an ambush was it not? Travelers could not rush forward by the dead barricade. No beast had come to eat the free offerings, nor drag it back to their dens to devour. All of it seemed to cry out trap. Every strike against it considered in his mind.

Watchful waiting, then. the best course of option to see which fool would be the first to be richly rewarded. Either by whatever belonging the riders had left behind, or by more black-feathered arrows. Should it come to it, the psion would demonstrate his ability, taking a moment to refocus his mind, letting go of some knowledge gleaned from the Noosphere and preparing himself for what Seethe had so eagerly been expecting. Perhaps today would be the genasi's lucky day, and finally he would be able to sling some spells, maybe even the Barbarian might hew some limbs off some poor sap. With any luck it would be the half-wit half-orc who would rush down the rest of the road to investigate closer. After all those horses looked heavy, and the brute was probably the only one with the muscle to push them away.

The first few moments after meeting new friends were the hardest for Bar. He tried to help out the new people, testing their armor as the dwarf had instructed him to. But instead he got shunned, a stab to the neck from a rapier and distant and cold looks he felt burning in his back. No matter how many clothes he would put on, he couldn't hide away from their stares. Taking these things very personally and silently sobbing in his big right hand, he proceeded to take offense to his minions thinking of him in such a bad way. Though he wasn't going to show this to anyone. Rather would he use it later. He would rage on the power of the emotions of lonelyness and rejection, as he always has. But time started weighing heavy on his simple-mindedness, as Bar had little patience. The feelings were further embelished by his food portions becomming significantly smaller when he was near the cleric and looked at the trees or bunnies in the forest. It did not help a lot to see her have more food then him either.

After days worth of travel without anyone speaking to him, he would end what he felt was become his miserable life. Taking a slightly firmer grip on his axe, he decided tonight would be the last. Being so deeply lost in depressive thought happened to Bar when he was emotionally hurt and had found no other outlet. He was on the brink of deciding where the best place would be, in front or away from these people who cared nothing about Bar... When suddenly Bar heard him being called by Seethe. Unlikely that this would lead to much good, Bar responded with a growl and a lifted axe at first. But after breathing heavily and listening twice to what she said, he lowered his stance. While on the wagon Seethe had commanded everyone things. This included getting escorting from Bar.
Very clearly stating the meaning of the word in small bite-size pieces of explanation.
To Bar this was a relief, seeing how his previous assumptions about the word had other (unacceptable) implications. Bar sniffed just once.

"You surprised me..."

He looked away from his escortee, hiding a big old smile.

"I call first skull on anything we find or kill."

Looking back over his broad shoulder Bar noticed a subtle nod. A feeling of acceptance overtook him. With a smile on his face Bar happily pronounced:

"Just remember, I swing high. So just duck if you hear me get mad."

The low voice made it sound a lot more intimidating then Bar really ment it to be.

"Hmmm.. maybe Bar was wrong.."

Bar mumbled this thinking alloud. Returning back to the desert that was his mind, he thought:

"Maybe i just have to kill some minions in stead of me... but not the robe-y one... He may have sad bad things.. but at least he was talking his language".

He proceeded to battle the other bad emotions he had. They would all have to wait. Card number 5 gave him an order first.(genasi)
The next few hours, he may have been spoken too by others. Bar kept his distance and tried to seem uninterested when he got a pat on the back.

Being focussed solely on his thoughts and his axe, Kiki started talking to him from at least 5feet away. Bar got very uncomfortable and would love an excuse to get out of the situation and as far away from her as possible.

Bar noticed the complete and untouched skull-possessing corpses on the floor. With a loud exclamation he shouted, he cut off the conversation. He raised his Axe-o-Meter while the sound filled the area:

"YEAH!!"

After jumping out of the cart with a loud 'thump', Bar took in a big gust of air.
Bar was one of the first to get his momentum going. He sped up to the first horse that he could find, at loincloth challenging speed. Raised was his Axe-O-Meter and with the first strike he aimed for the neck of the horse.

"SKULLS FOR THE BARON OF DRUMS!"

The severed horsehead was intact. It also had the skin and manes still on there and hadn't been moved by the attack at all.
It wasn't a difficult task for the speed he was going at, tough. The joy he had in finally finding a horse(or any creature really) he WAS allowed to hack at caused him to get completely carried away in the moment. He had some other emotionally unresolved issues, after all. Skipping trying to seperate each part carefully, he hacked as much as he could. It took about 15 nasty hacks, but he discovered to have left himself with only a legbone, a bloodcovereb body and a partially cleared path. He put the two parts away from the mushy goo. Mostly because the rest looked like a massive pile of gore that a half-orc took a great axe too.

"HEY SEE, COME SEETHE THIS!"

He called his newfound commander.
By the time he got closer:

"Do you want legbone or does Bar keep it? Meat is here!"

Was all the big half-orc loudly had to say, with a big grin on his face. A little growling stomach made Bar consider cleaning the road with his mouth. But he wanted his commander to have a first chance. If he didn't eat, neither would he.

Elki was so focused on trying to suss out the quiet one that it was only when Kiki got her attention did she notice the situation at all. A big, wide grin spread across her face and she stepped down from the cart, patting the rogue's hair with her silent blessing. As the rogue dissapeared off to work her magic, Elki approached the front line. Seeing that the orc had had a rough ride, Elk turned her beaming smile on him and slapped him gently on the back (low back, considering he was two feet taller then her at least) in commeraderie. There'd be plenty of time to get to know each other when they had the chance to swap stories over some meat and mead. She watched him run off to do his thing (against the horses? huh) and shrugged, drawing her sword and shield.

Ah, Elki felt a battle brewin' on the breeze.

Ardiane felt a chill go down her spine, and she slid off the horse. Frightened, she headed back into the wagon, where CA's discarded her for a different personality. Unbuttoning the blouse Ardiane had been wearing, tossing on a black waistcoat, and strapping the skirt into a pair of puffy pants, the man who stepped out of the wagon was a roguishly handsome tiefling.

He hefted the light crossbow in his hands, checking the dagger in his belt. "Looks like trouble?" Hymn asked the caravan master, running a finger across one of the ridged horns along his brow. He slouched in such a way as to convey relaxed confidence, and grinned the sort of lazy grin that made underclothes drop. Mostly women's. But he wasnt particular.

Seethe wished to investigate the scene, but he also didn't want to run right into an ambush. Luckily, it took only a bit of convincing in order to have Bar head over there first and spring any traps. He actually looks like he's going to do some rummaging for him, as well! The wizard figured that with enough training, even mongrels are able to figure out their dutie-

Wait, why is he taking out his axe?

Oh, gods!

Tyr, please grant us mercy!

Seethe stood, dumbfounded, clutching his stomach, feeling his lunch almost coming back up. Bar just... butchered one of the corpses! It's... horrifying! And utterly unrecognizable from whatever it was before! This is just... appalling! Seethe took a moment to swallow the scene he had just watched, making a huge gulp as he walked over.

The half-orc had noticed him walk over and raised its leg bone, seemingly offering it to the wizard, who shook his head in reply. Disgusting, Seethe thought, and bit his tongue before he would proceed to continue giving a piece of his mind. He can't blame the simpleton for not knowing common etiquette, after all...

"Well, this maybe wasn't a trap, after all, it seemed..." Seethed mentioned, as he started to think. The wizard figured at the very least that if he can determine when these horses expired, he'll be able to at least get an idea of how close any potential raiders are to their location.

"How warm was that horse when you started... preparing it, Bar?" The Genasi asked as he shuffled over to the other horse, staying a proper distance away from any blood splatters nearby.

"Living horses are warm, these not so much!" The Half Orc replied with a tusky grin. That helped. A lot.

"Thank you, and no thank you, Bar." Seethe waved off with as much politeness as he could manage. The antics of his party continued to amaze him, for the worst... well, at least they haven't gone too overboard. Seethe closed his eyes as he began an incantation, moving his hand in a coordinated motion. They were simple movements, really, and to a trained eye, it seemed as if Seethe was casting a very simple spell.



As Seethe said the magic words, an apparition in the shape of a hand slowly materialized floating near the wizard. He moved it over the horse that wasn't butchered, inspecting it for any signs of rot or rigor mortis. Seethe deducted that the horses have been dead for at least a day. Either these bandits are very patient, or just didn't bother to clean up. Most likely the latter, in this case.

The horses looked rather familiar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it how they did... Seethe brought his mage hand around the scene, inspecting the saddle bags. As expected, they were looted clean. Seethe looked around for a bit before he also noticed an empty map case. Grabbing it with his mage hand and bringing it over, Seethe had suddenly come to a realization just who these horses belonged to.

"These horses belonged to the dwarves, Gundren and Sildar!"

Legend
G = Goblin
S = Goblin Sneak
Other letters are the first letters of your character names.

Kiki
As you head into stealth towards K5 you notice movement in the trees where you notice some smaller figures crouching as in wait, You decided instead of following your set course to move aside towards L2 and to hide their watching the what you are certain are goblins very closely while preparing to strike.
((Altered path discussed))

M the Silent
From your new vantage point you can see the two goblins at c18 and c19 as well as see something moving in the bushes at E14 which you also suspect to be a goblin who is blending a bit better with the bushes. You can also see some tell-tale signs to the south of more creatures there however due to the foliage you’re unable to make out any of their exact numbers.

Bar Bare
While you’re walking over to the horse you notice some movement in the trees though you go about unabated to your work of butchering the animal.

Elki
You notice on your journey towards E12 there seems to be movement bush dead ahead of you, as well as being able to detect the movement of two other creatures that appear to be laying in wait at c18 and c19. Your senses also relay to you that there are more to the south however you can’t get a good read on their numbers as they appear to be obscured from the foliage.

Cas (A on map as my bad)
Prepared Reaction…
You notice the same goblins as M the silent and Elki.

Seethe
While investigating you get the feeling you’re being watched as there are slight movements here and there and something prickles your skin.
Goblin S at L19 V. Bar Bare
Surprise Round vs Bar Bare
Wepon of Choice, Blow Gun
roleplayerguild.com/rolls/3679
Damage calculation
Crit 2d6+2 = (2+2)+2 = 6

Goblin S at E14 V. Seethe
Surprise Round vs Seethe
Wepon of Choice, Blow Gun
roleplayerguild.com/rolls/3680
Critical Fail Roll
roleplayerguild.com/rolls/3681
Dex Save
roleplayerguild.com/rolls/3682
-Fail
Goblin falls prone.

[[GM Note: Please roll Initative and PM Me your numbers post order will be active for the next section as combat has now begun, @Regitnui please PM with your readied reaction and I will grant you a Reaction to the surprise round]]

POST ORDER
Character_______________Initiative
Cas_____________________Reaction
Seethe__________________20
Goblin L9_______________18
Cas_____________________17
Kiki Milan______________16
Goblin K6_______________15
Goblin Sneak E14________13
Elki____________________10
Goblin J7_______________10
Goblin D19______________8
Goblin M10______________7
Goblin Sneak L19________7
Bar Bare________________5
“M” the silent__________4
Goblin D18______________3
Cienna Rose_____________0

(Note: I will be posting on all the Goblins turns, if there are goblins back to back they will be merged into one post, if they are killed before hand they will lose their place, if players "go down" their place holds and they get their saves))

Goblin raid! Ardiane would have run, but Hymn was ecstatic. He'd been a bit bored with how peaceful the journey was, and had considered antagonizing the barbarian more than once, just for the novelty. A bush ahead of him rustled, and Hymn loosed a bolt, passing over the shoulder of a rather pretty young human girl.

Seethe was taken by surprised as he saw his barbarian companion crumple as he was hit by a dart. He heard a similar sound to what he heard when Bar was hit by a dart coming from the tree, except it ended rather abruptly, and what followed was a sound of... heavy coughing? Seethe looked toward the direction, seeing a diminutive figure choke up what appears to be a dart. Was that aimed at him, he thought?

Ridiculous, if it was, for even the gods know of Seethe's prestige so much that they would defend him against a measly dart from the dark!

The Wizard broke into a sprint, almost ten feet ahead, and diving into a roll, behind the large rock ahead of him. If these attackers planned to pepper him and his friends with darts, then he needs to find cover and stay low, in order to avoid their line of fire.

Seethe remained crouched down, drawing a wand from his belt and waving it in the air as minute magical sigils appeared floating right in front of him. He took a deep breath as he prepared the incantations, his eyes almost blazing with arcane magic, as if they were orbs of magical fire.



The magical words, while befuddled, came true, as Seethe centered the wand on himself, placing his palm on his chest as a shimmering spectral plate of armor surrounded him. The armor slowly faded away as it was cast, not disappearing completely, but just from view. The wizaed had hoped his completely defensive manuevering will allow his enemies to find themselves in a disadvantageous position for him to further set up a proper spell for...

Goblin at position L9
Repositions himself to I6 moving through L6 to get there.
Upon arriving at his new position he takes a clear breath and looks at the situation before choosing his target.
M The Silent.
He draws back on his short bow string with his arrow nocked firmly, he takes a deep breath before releasing the arrow and watching it hit firmly.

He then attempts to hide in place being lightly obscured by the bushes

All people with a passive above 11 can still see him squatting down in the grass in the shade of the tall tree.

Hymn runs to a low rock to the south, ducking down behind it. These goblins clearly came prepared for a raid. He'd have to have a long talk with that dwarf about his pay for this job. Leaning around it, he spotted a goblin attempting to hide near a tree. "They're coming from this side too!" He shouted in Common, then unleashed a string of Draconic at the goblin, criticising it's hiding skills. "Kod mey! Zu'u Fen Bo Ahrk Wahl Hi Sosaal!" He shouted, the words leaving an almost visible imprint on the air. He set another bolt in place, gesturing the guards and others to this side of the wagons.

---

The shadows granted to Kiki by the underbrush would only be helpful as long as she remained hidden, but the sudden sounds of combat proved to her this was impossible. The last time a battle had broken out... but no, she couldn't think about that now. Her newfound friends needed her. Probably the barbarian too.

Kiki rushed forward from the brush, flying at the nearest goblin with her blades in hand. The first attack was aimed towards the goblin's neck, while the second was intended for his ally nearby should the first target fall. Silent. Deadly. Scared shitless, but she was still alive. So were her friends by the looks of it, although the trees blocked her view of the horses in the road.

Kiki turned towards the nearest goblin, whipping the fresh blood from her blades in a sharp salute towards her foe. "If you value your life, run," she growled, praying the goblin could not hear the waver in her voice as she got ready to charge towards it. She hoped her voice was loud enough to carry to the wagons behind her, for if her plans failed or her aim was not true, she would be the one in dire need of a cleric.